


The Boy Who Lived

by Shaehey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bisexual Harry Potter, Coming Out, Draco and Harry say trans rights, Enemies to Lovers, Every Major Character is LGBTQ, Gay Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Me playing fast and loose with canon, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry Potter, Trans Draco Malfoy, Trans Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaehey/pseuds/Shaehey
Summary: There's a lot more time to question your gender when a Dark Lord isn't trying to kill you.Potter, the Girl Who Lived and the Heroine of the Wizarding World, believes that a happy future is laid out for her: she'll marry Ginny, adopt eight kids, and kick ass as an Auror. But post-war life isn't nearly as clear or simple as Potter believed. Her relationship with Ginny falls apart, bright green lights give her nightmares for a week, and it becomes rapidly clear that Potter isn't the Girl Who Lived.Potter is the Boy Who Lived.The last person that Harry Potter expects help and acceptance from is Draco Malfoy, but a chance meeting after the Wizengamot Trials has him wondering if they're more alike than they ever realized.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59





	1. Potter Ends the War

When Potter stood over the bridge to Hogwarts, watching the broken Elder Wand crack against the rocks below, she could finally breathe. It was over. God, it was finally _over._ There were bodies to bury, rubble to clear away, but Voldemort was dead. For the first time, Potter _knew_ that she had a future.

When she turned back to Ron and Hermione, she felt secure, could feel that bright stretching before her like a map: she’d become an Auror, marry Ginny, adopt two- four- no, _eight_ kids- and everything would be wonderful. Easy. How couldn’t it be easy? Regular life would be a breeze compared to the war.

It took only two weeks for Potter to realize that something felt wrong, unease always itching beneath the skin. It didn’t make sense. During the war, this was what she had dreamed of: Her and Ginny, living in peace, training for the Aurors. So why wasn’t she happy?

Their relationship fell apart so quickly, fell into tense silence and tears, and the worst part was, Potter couldn’t even explain why. All she could do was watch Ginny leave, and Potter didn’t say a word to stop her.

✦ ✧ ✦

“I don’t get it,” Ron said, eyes red. Potter clenched her teeth and looked away. She hated that all she seemed to do recently was make people cry. First Ginny, now Ron. “You said you loved Ginny. _Ginny loved you._ What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Potter said, running a hand through her hair, fingers snagging into the tangles.

“How can you not kn-?!” Ron’s voice rose to a shout.

“Ron,” Hermione said, voice quiet and soft.

There was a shuddering breath, like Ron was trying to pull torn air together, and Potter had to remind herself how to keep her own breath steady. “She came here sobbing. You know that? I’ve never seen her cry that hard, outside of when Fred…“ His voice trailed off, and no one needed to fill the gap. “You hurt her.”

And god, did Potter hate herself for it. “I know.”

“Then how could you-!”

“We’re worried about you,” Hermione cut in, softer than Ron. Potter looked up, immediately regretting it when he saw the deep crease of concern on Hermione’s brow. “You haven’t been yourself since- for a while. First your nightmares, then Ginny, and now quitting the Auror training-“

“I don’t care about the Auror thing,” Ron bit back.

“Ron,” Hermione began, but Ron shook her hand off of his shoulder and leaned forward across the table. His arms shook a bit.

“How could you do that to Ginny?”

Potter could only meet Ron’s wet eyes for a moment, a spike of shame pushing her eyes back down to the table. “I don’t think I loved her,” she breathed, pushing her head into her hands. “I don’t… I thought I did, I really thought I did. But after the war, I just.” She swallowed. “It didn’t feel… I didn’t like her that way.”

Potter wasn’t sure if she’d ever forgive herself for that. Ginny was honest, brave, kind, full of warmth and laughter. She deserved love, had earned it. So why couldn’t Potter love her back?

“Leave.” Ron wasn’t looking at her.

Potter’s heard dropped. “Ron-“

“Leave. I can’t… that was my sister,” he said, eyes squeezing shut. He shook his head, turning towards the door. “She lost a brother, and friends in the battle, and now _you_. I need to be with her right now.”

“Ron, I’m so sorry.” If nothing else, Potter hoped that Ron knew that.

He paused at the door. “Apologize to Ginny.”

Potter shook her head. “I already have.” Too many times, and all it had done was make Ginny cry harder.

The door slammed shut when Ron left, and Potter distantly noticed that her hands were wet. She rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, stretched over her palm.

“I-“ Hermione tried. “If you need someone to talk to, I know mind healers-“

“I don’t,” Potter interrupted, raising a hand. “I really don’t. I just. Ron’s right,” she said, rising to a stand. “I need to leave.” She had overstayed her welcome at Hermione’s apartment.

“Please-“

“You should be with Ron,” Potter interrupted. She didn’t think that she could handle more emotion right now. It was bad enough seeing Ron cry. She didn’t want to wait long enough for Hermione to start, too. “He needs you.”

“You need _us_ ,” Hermione insisted, putting a hand on Potter’s shoulder. “We’re still your friends. Ron’s mad right now, but...” She gave a glance to the door. “He’ll come around. He just needs time.”

“And I want to give him time,” Potter managed to say after taking a breath, pressing her hands into her pocket. “Thank you, Hermione, but I… I’m going to go.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, letting go. Potter didn’t dare look up at her expression. “I’ll fire-call you later, okay?”

“Sure, Hermione. Sure.”

Hermione didn’t. Throughout the night, the small magical fire in Grimmauld place remained exactly as it was. Potter couldn’t blame her.

✦ ✧ ✦

Potter had mixed feelings about the Grimmauld place. The place was depressing. It seemed to be a reflection of how she felt, quiet and dark and so lonely. It had felt alright for a brief moment, when Ginny, Hermione, and Ron had sipped firewiskey with her to celebrate the end of the war. They had made jokes about being U-Haul bisexuals, and Ginny had laughed and talked about her grand plan to put quidditch-themed wallpaper in every room.

Potter liked the fact that Sirius had lived here, once. When she walked down the corridors and touched the chipping wallpaper, there was a bittersweet comfort in knowing that Sirius had once done the same. She wished he was here now. She could use family right about now.

It made sense that Sirius would be the catalyst of a realization that would change Potter’s entire life.

Potter found one of Sirius' jackets, dusty and crumpled behind a couch. When she put it on and caught a sight of herself in the mirror, hair just as wild and long as Sirius’ had been, she saw- someone else. Or, not someone else, but someone she had been all along.

In the mirror was a man. Short, a little scrawny, a little haunted, but if you didn’t glance twice, didn’t glance down to the chest, you wouldn’t think _woman_. It felt right, like reaching out into wind and closing your fingers on a snitch.

Potter took off the jacket, hands trembling, and tried to forget about it.

Potter couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter where I'll be using she/her pronouns for Harry Potter. Moving forward, the narration will exclusively use he/him pronouns. 
> 
> Support trans lives!


	2. Harry Potter Gets an Owl

It was so obvious in hindsight that Harry Potter felt embarrassed. Malfoy had always pointed out Harry’s baggy clothes and hand cut hair; _“Your hair looks if it’s been chewed off by a badger. Merlin, Potter.”_ But once Harry found out that he was attracted to women, he waved it off as just being a butch tomboy, as just wanting to be comfortable and not wanting to waste time with all that stuff when he was, you know, trying to save the entire Wizarding World (fuck you, Malfoy).

He hadn’t thought too hard about why he’d felt so uncomfortable without at least two layers of clothing over his chest, why he liked his reflection so much more when his hair was short, why someone saying _“You look like a boy,”_ made him feel proud instead of indignant.

He was a boy, and his name was Harry Potter.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that fact.

 _The Boy Who Lived_ had a nice ring to it. 

The Prophet would have a field day if they found out.

What would Ron and Hermione think? What would Ginny think? The thought made him itch uncomfortably, made his eyes sting. He shook it off, redirecting to something less painful. Malfoy. What would Malfoy think? Harry snorted. The pompous prick would probably self-destruct on the spot. If Purebloods hated Muggles, it wasn’t hard to imagine their stance on trans people.

✦ ✧ ✦

The chance to find out came a lot sooner than Harry was expecting. Receiving a letter from the Ministry was definitely… something. Harry frowned at it, tilting the stiff letter back and forth, the paper softly glowing.

It was weird how fast Harry felt uncomfortable with his birth name. Even seeing it felt off, created a strange stiff feeling in his chest.

The Ministry owl hooted at him impatiently, and Harry finally started to read, eyes passing over every mention of his birth name. Maybe there was a spell that he could use to remove it from any letters he received? Malfoy would be proud of that, the pompous arse. He always did say shit like _“You’re still covered in mud? You do know there’s a spell for that, right, Potter? I don’t know how you’re supposed to be Gryffindor’s hero if you can’t even do a basic spell.”_ Wait- why was he thinking about Malfoy? That was weird. Maybe Hermione had been right, back at Hogwarts. Maybe he had been just a little obsessed with hating Malfoy. It was weirdly easy to fall back into.

He stared at the paper. Shit, right. Reading.

He finally focused enough to read the damn letter, and once he was finished, Harry frowned. He folded the paper back up, and then unfolded just so that he could frown at the words again.

Malfoy, _Draco Malfoy_ , was going to be on trial. Other people were too- like, well, Lucius Malfoy- but Draco Malfoy was the one Death Eater who Harry didn’t want to see being carted off to Azkaban.

There was no lost love between them. The entire student and teacher body of Hogwarts knew that. But Harry would be lying if he said that he still thought of Malfoy as an evil, slimy Death Eater who only relied on his family’s money.

In hindsight, it was clear that Harry wasn’t the only one with a shitty family. Things had changed perceptively when Draco had lied for him at the manor.

Fuck. Harry didn’t want to speak at the trials, even though the Ministry itself was asking him. He’d be more than happy to pass along his memories, of course. But sitting in the middle of the court under Veritaserum again? Having to retell details to an entire crowd? Having to listen to the other testimonies, know exactly how terribly people died at the hands of Death Eaters?

But Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Harry hadn’t pulled him out of the fire just so that he would rot in Azkaban like Sirius had.

“Goddamn it,” Harry said, rubbing his face. He reached for a quill.

✦ ✧ ✦

Harry Potter regretted everything.

All it took was one person shouting “Potter!” as he stumbled out of the Ministry’s floo for him to become immediately surrounded with people and flashing lights. Were those… notebooks and quills? Oh, oh no. He was surrounded by _reporters_.

There were people bumping into his shoulders, a flash right in front of his eyes. He stepped backwards, back flush with the brick of the floo, but the crowd swelled forward.

“What are your thoughts-”

“The trials-“

“Are you a witness?“

“Is the Ministry doing enough-“

Harry dug his fingers against the brick, scratching the skin. They snapped questions at him, voices clamoring over each other, and Harry’s lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. Panic crackled in his chest. He could feel a devil’s snare wrapping around his waist, the taste in his mouth when he’d woken up from death, a cold field dripping with dew and Cedric’s blood. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from these people, and magic flooded into his hands-

“Move, move! Move, I’m- _Excuse_ me, I’m with the Ministry, terribly sorry, move please,” a familiar voice said, and parting the tight crowd of reporters was Arthur Weasley. His hand landed on Harry’s trembling arm, pulling him out. “I thought that was you,” Arthur said, sounding pleased.

Harry nearly bowed over in relief. If Arthur Weasley hadn’t-

 _Weasley_.

He felt a cold sweat travel up his arm as he followed. Harry hadn’t spoken to any of the Weasley since he’d broken up with Ginny, and he had no idea how Arthur or Molly felt about things. “I…”

“Sorry about that,” Arthur huffed, keeping a fast pace forward. Harry didn’t dare to get left behind, the click of cameras a motivator to leave the lobby as soon as possible. “They’ve been here twenty-four seven since the trails started. Can’t get rid of them,” Arthur said. “They’re not a mean lot- or, well, not all of them, at least- but persistent. You know.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, more than a little thrown by how normal Arthur was acting. He forced his voice to steady. “Um, about Ginny-“

Arthur stopped then, the smile sliding from his face. Harry could see the lines below his eyes. “Not here,” he whispered, glancing at the reporters who were still snapping photos by the floos. “Just… you’re always welcome for dinner. You know that. Molly misses you.”

Why did Harry feel a little bit like crying? “I know,” he said, even though he hadn’t.

Arthur smiled at him, a sad one, but still a smile, and the weight of what he thought he’d lost- the family he’d lost- hit Harry like a wet stone. He wanted nothing more than to be back at Molly’s table again, griping with Ron about the Quidditch season and trying to avoid George’s new pranks.

Damn it, now wasn’t the time to think about that, though. He had a mission here. He shook it off like floo dust. “How’s the trial been going?”

“Which one?” Arthur said over his shoulder, but seemed to come to the right answer himself. “Oh, Draco Malfoy’s?”

Harry nodded, and Arthur hummed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” He said, but then shrugged with one shoulder, eyes glancing at the hallway. “But you’re family. It’s…” His mouth twisted, the word stretching out. “Not going well. The Wizengamot is split so far, and it’s hard to argue against the charges with a Dark Mark on his arm.”

The news didn’t sit well with Harry. He knew from experience how easy it was to judge Draco Malfoy at surface level and write him off, and Malfoy didn’t deserve to be tortured by Dementors because he was just another dumb kid trapped in a war bigger than himself and had the charm of a spitting cat. “But he has a chance?”

Arthur nodded, tapping his wand on an ornate marble door. “He has a chance,” Arthur agreed. “I take it you’re going to testify in support of him?”

Harry nodded. “I’ll tell the truth,” he said.

“That’ll help,” Arthur said. “You are the Girl Who Lived and the heroine of the Wizarding World, after all. Who could argue against your word?” He smiled at Harry, and Harry grimaced back as the ornate door opened.

He blinked once his eyes fell onto the person sitting on one of the room’s chairs, the young woman humming and kicking her legs. “Luna?”

She stopped swinging her legs, grinning up to look at Harry. “Morning!” She said back. “Are you here to speak for Draco, too?”

“You’re…. here to speak _for_ Draco?”


End file.
